The letters
by Badbrainday
Summary: Lisa settled in, attended a few classes and got into the swing of college life when she stumbled upon them one day. Well, stumble may be a strong word for prying and braking open the false drawer bottom she had found in the desk. Inside she had found a small bundle of letters...
1. Chapter 1

The letters

"It smelled like a dormitory, and it looked like a dormitory. No surprises there…." Lisa thought as she closed the door to the new dormitory and looked around. The room was exactly what she had expected, but still she kind of wished it had been a little nicer, not so scruffy, worn out looking. "Oh, well it was only going to be her home away from home the next few years so, no time to be picky, right?" she thought as she threw her bags on the bed.

She settled in, attended a few classes and got into the swing of college life when she stumbled upon them one day. Well, stumble may be a strong word for prying and braking open the false drawer bottom she had found in the desk. Inside she had found a small bundle of letters. They appeared to be relatively new, no more than a few years tops, at any rate; the paper hadn't gotten that yellow patina and they didn't smell of 'old paper'.

The same handwriting was on each of the envelopes, stating simply 'Dean'. None of them had addresses or stamps, so she figured they never reached the recipient.

There where four letters in all. Being the curious creature that she was, she opened the letter at the bottom first, as she figured that would be the oldest one. She couldn't help but wonder about the person that had obviously gone through so much trouble building this false bottom in the drawer just to stack some letters there and then leave them behind.

It didn't make sense…

But it was their loss and her adventure, she thought as she carefully opened and unfolded the first letter and spread it out on the desk. The handwriting was beautiful. She decided that the writer had to be female. She had very rarely seen men with writing that neat and fluent

She smoothed the letter out and started to read:

Dear Dean,

I'm writing this letter knowing that your hands will never touch the paper that this pencil is scribbling over. Knowing that you will never see the marks my tears are leaving on this page. Knowing that you will never know that they where shed for you, and you, not knowing, is the only way to keep me sane.

I know you think I left because of John. That he drove me away with the constant arguments and fights that I left perusing my dream. I admit getting away from all that fighting and hunting felt good, but it's not the reason for me leaving. The actual reason for me leaving was you!

I couldn't stand it anymore. Being so close every day without being able to tell… Tell you how you make me feel! How safe I always felt around you, no matter how bad the hunts got. You always had my back. I felt so loved and protected! You always looking out for me! Always putting me first! This is also the reason why I can never tell you how I feel, or what I really want.

Because on some level I know that you probably would go along with it, just to make me happy. That is just how fucked up our relationship is. I don't think I ever told you how much I appreciated you always putting me first and I desperately miss that feeling of comfort.

I miss you, Dean!

I can't even begin to tell you how much I miss you. I miss that little smile in consent you gave me when no one else was around. I miss your accidental touches that made my skin tingle in ways it really shouldn't. I miss how you always seamed to know what I was thinking before I knew myself. Fortunately, you never knew what kinds of thoughts I had about you in protection of the night. Never knew about the thoughts that drove me away from you, forcing me to leave. You were the reason I had to leave… well not you, but how you made me feel was the reason I had to leave and I miss you so desperately… I love you and I'm in love with you…forever!

Love,

Sam

Now that she knew about them, she could actually see faint evidence of dried teardrops having altered the structure of the paper in a few places. The letter and the apparently unhappy woman's unrequited love touched her.

Who had she been?

Who was this Dean?

Was John her abusive husband and Dean some close friend or brother to John or something?

She didn't know, but they all seemed to have been hunting together, and they apparently were very close but not as close as Sam wanted them to be. Her imagination ran wild over this letter. Her heart ached for them both and she was intrigued by this triangle-drama.

Lisa got up from the uncomfortable desk chair and sat down on the bed as she opened the second letter.

Dear Dean,

I don't know why I keep doing this—writing letters you will never read? Guess since we are not really talking anymore this is my way of thinking that I have some way of communicating, even if only one-sided… Still miss you so much it hurts every day and every hour.

I had hoped that not being around you would ease the torture… but apparently, being close to you are just as painful as NOT being close to you. I know it was my choice and I will live with it, but I still miss not being able to se you every day; sitting next to you in the car (Oh, the car…). I don't expect you to understand (and I truly hope that you never will) the agony it was sitting so close, but always so far away in the ways that mattered... All I wanted was to reach out for that thigh or for that manly rough hand on the steering wheel. I didn't, but I wanted to. I wanted to touch you in a way that no man like me ever should think about touching another—especially not someone like you.

I had hoped that not being around you would put a stop to those kinds of forbidden thoughts, but it didn't… Still think about you every night. Still think about you when I come. Yes, I'm a sick, sick bastard who still loves you more than life itself.

Love,

Sam

There were no dates on the letters so she couldn't guess how much time had went by since the first one. It felt like perhaps months or maybe a year?

So, Sam probably wasn't a girl's name as she had first thought. The writer was probably male, and that actually explained a lot of the torment and feelings he felt he couldn't express towards the love of his life. She found it so sad that gay people still had to hide around the bushes in some parts of the world. Well, for some, right in their own family's home

So, this was probably some guy named Samuel who was in love with his (straight?) best friend or something. They seemed to have been living together, or maybe only working together?

But who was this John? The guy mentioned in the first letter? Was he another friend whom they also lived with?

She was getting more and more confused but also intoxicatingly curious about the person that had apparently lived in the same room as she had, only a few years ago and who wrote these letters not intended for anyone else to read. She felt guilty about that thought for a brief moment, before she got up to get the third letter from the desk.

Dear Dean,

So much time has gone by and yes I can breath a little easier these days. The hurt doesn't hurt as much, and there are days when I'm not constantly wondering where you are and what you are doing. That is progress, I guess? I still miss you, though. I miss our conversations and jokes. I even miss your bad taste in music.

I feel I have made real progress with coming to terms with who I am and accepting that my feelings for you will never be reciprocated. Still, I wonder sometimes though, how much of these perverted feelings of mine come from our seriously disturbing childhood? No children should ever have had to see what we have seen or know what we know. Maybe being so dependent on you while growing up somehow fucked us both up? Sometimes I think to myself: Maybe it's not just me? Then reality catches up and I realize what a sick, disturbed kid I am, that can't even sit next to my brother without thinking of fucking him.

I know that I eventually will learn to live with these feelings, and I'm slowly getting there but I'm not ready to come back and have my nose rubbed in it on a daily basis.

At least not yet…

I wish John would stop badgering me about joining the family business. I really do not have the love for the hunt like you two do. Sometimes I can't help thinking that maybe we're not related? That would explain so much and get me out of 'the disappointing son' dilemma. And it certainly would make my feelings towards you a hell of a lot easier to handle… But I know what cards I have been dealt and now I better start playing them.

I've met this girl—Jess! She is lovely and I think I may actually love her. Not in the way I love you, don't think I can ever love anyone like I love you… You are my brother after all.

Love,

Sam

What the fuck? She read the letter over and over again trying to make sense of it. Were they family?

'Like, foster kids or something?' she wondered, truly hoping so. Because she really didn't want to think about anything closer than that No, they probably weren't foster kids she realized as she skimmed through the letters again and tried to fit what she just read into her 'code of conduct' without any success.

Now all the secrecy (and hiding the letters, never to be read) started to make sense to her. But There was still one more letter left; it seemed to be more recent and had a different envelope then the others. She picked it up hesitantly, not sure she really wanted to know any more than she did already about this truly fucked up drama.

On some level, she couldn't help but feel for the boy who was so tormented by his feelings for his brother. She couldn't even start to imagine the agony and pain he must have been through.

She dared to opened the last letter and nervously bit her lip as she started reading.

Dear Dean,

This is my last letter to you that you will never read. Don't know why I wrote it and I certainly don't know why I decided to break in to my old dorm and hide it amongst the others but it seemed right. In fact, the only thing that has felt right the last couple of days, ever since we went on that hunt together.

I would like to say that I'm over you, that I have learned to control my feelings towards you, but I'm not—Not really….

But this is how I will play out the cards dealt me:

I'm going to marry Jess and live the apple pie life we always wanted when we where kids. I am going to do that, and I'm going to go to law school like planned. I'm going to meet you for the holidays and we are going to do that brother bonding thing in front of the TV or playing sports. We are going to do all that and I'm going to be all right with that and the memory of when you were an obsession to me will eventually be a distant memory; like a fading dream. That is how I had it all planned out, and it would have worked out!

I was well on my way to having all that until you decided to showed up again…

FUCK YOU!

All this time trying not to want you, trying not to wonder how your lips would feel like against mine. All that hard work wasted after only one weekend with you in that damn car.

So now, this is how it's going to be; I will have my apple pie life, but you will not be a part of it. There will be no brotherly bonding over the holidays because I have proven to myself that I can live without you! I really can! It's the living with you in my life that I can't handle.

You showing up proved once again that I couldn't possibly live a normal life with you as any part of it, not while staying sane anyway… Just seeing you for only a few days actually has given me terrible nightmares as proof of that. I need to stay as far away from you as possible. I still love you, though. I always will love you more then life itself, but you will have to find dad on your own... This is one hunt I'm not joining.

Love,

Sam

She slowly closed and folded the letter, wiping a tear off her cheek as she tucked all the letters back into the drawer. She put the false bottom back before she carefully closed the drawer and set out for class.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

'Tracking down who Sam, hadn't really been that difficult,' Lisa thought with surprise. With a made-up story of a watch found behind the bed (with an inscription 'to Sam'), it really hadn't been that hard to get the dormitory attendant to tell her that the 'Sam' who had lived in her room a few years ago was a guy named Sam Winchester. She was a bit annoyed that she hadn't done this sooner.

It had been almost two years since she first discovered the letters. At first she had convinced herself not to make anything more out of this then it really was; they were only some crappy letters not intended for anyone to read, so she really should respect that... Well, she hadn't, and judging by the thumbed and well-handled shape the letters were in nowadays she couldn't fool herself anymore.

This had become an obsession of hers.

Who was this guy? Who was Dean? She was curious about this desperately pining, unhappy author. She had made up countless stories about their fate over the years, when finally one day she decided to at least find out Sam's real name (and maybe an address if possible...?).

The person Sam had registered, as an emergency contact was one Bobby Singer. When trying to reach him, she had found that Bobby had passed away. There seemed to be no other clues as to where Sam was these days. Now, she was at a dead end. There was no address to this Sam and she really couldn't imagine how to proceed in order to find him.

She figured he did not live 'an apple pie life' with someone named Jess. She couldn't find records of that combination in any of the telephone, directories—it seemed as if Sam had disappeared in to thin air after his time here at Stanford.

What had happen to him?

The last letter was so final, so heartbreaking. She just had to find him, find out what happened. She kind of pathetically had fallen in love with the fantasy of the unhappy kid in love with his brother.

With her hard earned savings that she had scraped together working at the café down the road, she contacted a shady (but cheap) private investigator. After a few hours work, he revealed what general information he could find on this Sam character: That he had a brother named Dean (No kidding?) who was four years older then Sam. Their parent's names were John and Mary—both deceased. and that They had spent most of their earlier years moving around the country,, attending various public schools all over US (as if Military family or something).

But that was about all he managed to pull from the public records. He explained that it was as if Sam had fallen of the grid after his Studies at Stanford, as if he really didn't want to be found.

The PI managed to dig up an old article with mentions of 'Sam Winchester' as the boyfriend of a girl that died, trapped in burning house a few years earlier. The girl had been Jess. Lisa, who had felt sorry for the guy even before that tragic piece of news, couldn't believe just how much this 'Sam' had been put through in his life so far. Parents dead, Girlfriend dead. In love with his brother…

If she actually found this guy alive it would be a miracle. People had become depressed for much less, she thought.

The PI also managed to pull a picture from the drivers' license at the DMV, but it was pretty old. Still the boy in the picture didn't really fit with what she expected this pining unfortunate kid to look like. The boy in the picture was a cute 16-year-old kid, wide, bright smile and short, floppy dark hair.

He didn't at all look like someone who was in love with his brother. Not that she really had any prejudices concerning the look of incestuous people, but this really wasn't what she had expected…

The PI had been puzzled. The only trace he could find of Sam after Stanford was in hospital records were he seemed to pop up now and then all over the US. , But no lead to as were he was living these days. Lisa was pretty sure that hospital records weren't concerned 'public records' but didn't dig any deeper into how the PI had acquired the information.

Sam's name actually had showed up twice in one area in the US; both at a hospital, and a traffic incident. The PI explained that it wasn't much to go by, but if he would have a guess, he'd figure Sam lived somewhere around there.

For a guy who apparently moved around a lot, two references at the same place seemed to be more than a coincidence to Lisa.

"This guy probably uses false credit cards to cover his tracks, so you'd probably never find him unless you hack in to government facial recognition programs," the PI said. "But, if I were you, I would go to this town and start asking around. Lebanon, Kansas isn't that huge a town," he pointed out. "You could get lucky! Maybe someone recognizes him and then take it from there."

He paused, then added:

"Unless, of course, you are willing to pay me the serious amount of money I would require making it worthwhile to hack in to government databases?"

Lisa violently shook her head. This project had already taken way more time, money and emotional investment then she first budgeted.

It seemed that she was going to pay Lebanon, Kansas a visit this spring break.

She once again studied the photo she had received from the PI. Sam looked very young there and he must at least be in his mid-twenties by now, but there probably should be enough resemblance to ask around town, she figured. She started to make up plans for how to proceed in the search for Sam Winchester.

So, it turns out Lawrence, Kansas isn't the popular place to go for spring break. In fact Lebanon itself seamed to be nothing but farms. So, instead she set her sights for the nearest town. She checked in to a scruffy motel that was all she could afford on her shoestring budget. She wasn't really sure how to go about this detective-business and felt kind of silly thinking that anything could actually come out of this.

Next morning, she started by flashing the photograph to the girl at the reception desk. But she didn't recognize him. Instead, she referred her to a bar on the main street, where as she said 'everybody is bound to show up at some point!'

She realized she really hadn't planned this thing out. She sipped through her second bear at the bar, trying to figure out whom to approach with her questions next. She felt herself getting a bit tipsy from the beer as an eye-catchingly hansom guy crashed down on a stool at the other end of the bar.

She studied him discreetly out of the corner of her eye. 'Nothing wrong with mixing a bit pleasure with business, right? Besides it was spring break after all...' she thought. She wondered if she should walk up to him, flashing the picture as an icebreaker? The guy seemed to be a regular and flirted shamelessly with the waitresses as well as the female bartender whom didn't seem unaffected by his charms.

'Oh, one of those...' she figured and rather disappointingly stated that this was not her type. She had done that mistake one to many times, thank you! Instead, she figured she had to eat something if she was to stay here for long without getting totally hammered. She ordered the cheeseburger and ate it at the bar when to her surprise the handsome douchebag approached her taking a seat only one stool away from her.

"Cheeseburger, huh?" he said with a wide grin.

She nodded while franticly trying to chew down the food in her mouth, wondering why on earth this guy was talking to her. He was clearly out of her league. Maybe he had already worked through the handsome girls in this town and now going for the plain ones? She braced herself with the willpower to withstand any moves this asshole was about to make on her.

"My kind of girl!" he said looking at her with an appreciative smile. Clearly checking her out.

Oh, she was going to need a lot of willpower to resist this one... a lot!

"So, I haven't seen you around here before. New in town or passing through?" he asked having a sip of his whiskey.

She thought it was a bit early for having the strong liqueurs at this time of day, but having worked her way through two beers herself she really shouldn't pass judgment on anyone.

"No, just passing through," she confessed. "Just staying for a few days, " she added, turning towards him and noticing a pair of green eyes looking back at her. Oh my god! That must have been the greenest pair of eyes she had ever seen in her life...

"So, can I buy you a drink, or perhaps a dessert is more appropriate?" he asked, flirty smile amped up bright. "The pie here is to die for. You really should try it!" he said with an intoxicating smile.

She really should just blow him off with some sarcastic remark or comment, but instead she figured that this guy might actually have information on the people in town so she switched tactics. "Uhm, no thanks, I'm fine. But I wouldn't mind one of those," she said nodding towards his whiskey.

After two whiskeys and lots of flirty conversation, she switched to water, while Mr. Gorgeous kept his whiskey coming. She was quite a bit more then tipsy by now and she started to notice that he was getting slightly affected by the alcohol as well.

"So, you are not going easy on the liqueurs today are you? Something troubling you?" she asked, anxious to steer conversation away from herself. It was tiresome as hell making up lies all the time and keeping track of what lies she had made up just so that she didn't reveal that she was here searching for a guy that she had fallen obsessively in love with over some letters, and now had decided to more or less stalk the poor guy...

"Funny you should ask!" he says, scratching his underarm with a concerned look. "Where do you want to start? Recent problems or just how fucked up I am in general? Unfortunately, I doubt that you would believe anything I told you about my problems even if I did tell you... They are just too strange and too sick, to be honest, but I guess I could tell you that I have a brother that I worry about a lot, maybe more then a lot... Man! He would love you! You are just his type, brainy and funny," he said shaking his head slightly in what seem to be affectionate concern.

"So, I take it I'm not your type then," she said with a sarcastic implicative smile.

"No, not like that," he said, waving a hand. "You are just not the kind of girl that usually— Uh, shit. That came out wrong. It's just that the girls I usual hook up with are a bit more..." his hand flopped around again. "Oh shit," he ended, slumping with defeat. "There is no way I'm getting out of this one, is there? I'm goanna shut my cakehole now..." he said with an embarrassed smile and it looked as if the actually had a blush coming on.

"No worries! I'm not looking for a hookup anyway," she said reassuringly. "I'm actually here on a wild goose chase for a guy that lost something in my dorm room years ago and now hoping to return it," she said in a sudden urge to be up front with this guy that seemed so troubled behind the happy facade. "So if we are talking about the most fucked up people in this bar, I'm right up there! In the top two—right with you!" she said, smiling.

"College girl, huh? My brother went to college, you know. He is some fucking genius or something! Stanford of all places! Can you believe that? My fucking unbelievable, amazing little brother, at Stanford!" he said with unmistakable pride in his voice


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Stanford! Really? That's where I go!" she said honestly and waited to see if he would connect the dots with the information she had shared with him just moments ago. Apparently he didn't at least not immediately, he was probably to drunk for that... she figured when it suddenly hit her:

"Oh, shit! It couldn't be... could it? I mean what are the odds that she should run in to Sam's brother at random in a bar?" she asked herself. Pretty high she quickly concluded as she was frequenting the small towns only bar. She amazed over the fact that she was now most likely sitting next to Dean Winchester! She really didn't know what to do with that information though... Well in fact she wasn't sure that this was Dean, they hadn't changed names yet, but seeing this amazingly attractive (and oddly charming guy, she could definitely see the appeal this guy could have on his brother, or any other human being actually...)

"Really! Wow that is so great!" he slurred out, now apparently starting to feel the effect of all those whiskeys he had gulped down in a disturbing pace all afternoon.

"Hey Sam! What are the odds? This lovely girl here went to Stanford like you!" Dean suddenly shouted out to someone behind her with a happy grin "and she's really your type!" he added in what probably should have been a low whisper, but came out half shouting, as Sam apparently closed in on them. She turned around to look at the man behind her. She laid eyes on an impressively tall man, with broad shoulders and long dark hair framing friendly, laughing eyes, and ridiculously charming dimples. She almost jumped of her chair in surprise. She had calculated that Sam would be older more manly looking then the picture but... Wow! This was not at all what she had imagined.

"Stanford huh? We don't get many of those around here. Nice to meet you! I'm Sam! ... and you apparently have already met my obnoxiously drunk brother. Who I presume has been hitting hard on you all night?" Sam said with apologizing smile, showing of those dimples some more.

"Hi! I'm Lisa!" she said as she with her hart racing as she shock Sam's outstretched hand. "No he has been quite the gentleman actually!" she continued and wondered briefly about the slight twitch she had noticed in Dean's face when she spoke her name.

"Well Lisa I'm going to get this drunk of your back and have him sleep it off." Sam said as he went over and slid his arm aroundDeans back to support him and Dean started to slide of the stool quite unstable and intoxicated. She hadn't really noticed as long as they sat down talking, but now it was obvious that Dean was really drunk and the look on Sam's face revealed that this probably wasn't the first time he had to come and get his brother in this state at the local bar...

The brothers stumbled away through the bar While Dean stopped for a moment and turned towards her "It was really nice meeting you Lisa!" Dean said with a wide grin, waving his hand at her.

"It was really nice meeting you too Dean!" she requited as they were heading for the door. She realized that she never actually had gotten introduced to Dean, but she really didn't think he would notice in the drunken state he was in. She watched the two brothers swaying through the bar. Dean being just a little bit more handsy with his brother then what would seem appropriate unless you of course was terribly drunk. She doubted anyone else noticed it, but she did. She paid her tab and started out for the motel.

Next day midmorning Sam Winchester showed up outside her motel room nervously asking if he could come in. She was a bit surprised that he had found her here. But this was a small town and quite frankly the girl at the desk didn't seem to be all that concerned with the discretions of her guests. So she wasn't as much surprised, as caught off guard, as she hesitantly invited him in.

Sam seamed nervous and his eyes flickered, afraid to meet her gaze. He fingered nervously on what seemed to be a very interesting and invisible spot on his jacket arm, before taking a deep breath and finally meeting her eyes.

So, ehrm... I take it you have found the letters? He said, still not quite able to hold Lisa's gaze in embarrassment and looking like he wanted to sink through the earth.

"Yeah! I did..." and now it was her turn to feel embarrassed. Why had she done this? What did she expect would happen now that she knows who the guy was? She had spent most of the night thinking about this, realizing that the main reason behind this quest of hers was curiosity and a desperate need to understand what had triggered the desperate longing in Sam for his Brother. She needed to get the story behind the man, but she doubted she ever would... Seeing Sam and Dean had in a sense only made matters worse. She had had a tiny crush on Sam, due to the tone and desperation of the letters even before meeting him. Now that she had met him in real life, it was ten times worse. Or hundred times worse because she now was certain that there only was place for one love in Sam's life, and that spot was taken by his brother.

"How did you figure it out?" she asked not really knowing where to go from her confession.

"Well, when Dean sobered up this morning he remembered that you said you where looking for someone that had lived in your dorm room and well that kind of gave the rest of it, he said with a shy smile. "...So do you have them with you?" He asked with a low voice.

"No, actually! I left them safely at Stanford... I never really expected to find you... Really!" She lied realizing that she wasn't ready to part with the letters. Even thou she knew that there was never going to be thing between her and Sam was never going to happen. She wanted to keep the letters as a keepsake of a period of her life when she acted crazy on a feeling. She kind of sensed that the rest of her life would most likely be very sensible and controlled, not really giving in to impulses like this!

"I will send them to you as soon as I return home okay? Sorry that you had to come here in vain" she said with a pinch of bad conscience.

I'm aware I'm overstepping but I have to say that I am very pleased to see you doing surprisingly well considering… Well considering what you have been through in life... Some of the letters where pretty desperate, and I'm truly sorry about what happened to Jess."she said with a compassionate smile.

"So you know about that huh?" He said and scrubbed his neck in awkwardness. "I suppose... there isn't much you don't know about me if you managed to track me down"

Honestly it was more of a fluke thing... although I'm pretty sure the PI I hired used some not very legal methods to get his information, so I more or less came here on a hunch and unbelievably enough stumbled upon Dean only a few hours after I arrived; Dumb luck really! She said with an apologetic smile.

"So now that you found me are you going to give me a lesson in ethics and moral or what?"He asked with hurt in the expressive hazel eyes.

"Oh god. No! Never... I was just so touched by the tragedy of the letters that I just had to see for my self – Meet the man behind the letters if you will..." she said and noticed a faint smirk in the corner of his mouth, but didn't know what caused it.

"As I see it you are two adult brothers with a very complicated relationship, but what you choose to do in private, as long as no one gets hurt, really isn't any of my business." She added realizing she actually meant every word of it.

She had tons of questions for Sam, cramming in her mouth fighting to get out, but she realized that this was not an interview so she tried to pace herself, not that successfully thou…

"But why did you leave the hidden letters in the first place? Why not write them and burn them?" She asked curiously, biting her tongue, really not doing well with pacing herself...

Well my intention was always to come back for them and destroy them, but after Jess died things got very weird very quickly, and I never got around to it. Something in hindsight I really should have done. He said with regret

"Look! I know I have no right to ask... but do you still feel the same?" She asked and immediately placed a hand over her mouth in an attempt to silence the words already out there. "Oh my god! Shut up! Don't answer that! I have absolutely no right to ask that" she explained, But the harm was already done. Even if he didn't answer the question the answer was written all over his face. Oh! How her hart aced for this man. In an act of desperate empathy she strode towards him and offered him a comforting hug. They stood there hugging for a long time until he pulled out and looked at her with tear brimmed eyes

"Thanks! Knowing that you don't judge me actually makes things a little easier to bear. You can keep the letters! Its not like I need them to remind me" he said with a faint sad smile, and turned away walking out the door, and Just like that he was gone as quickly as he had showed up. She sat down on her bed for a long time thinking about what just happened and what to do next.

Eventually she stood up started packing her things checking out from the motel getting ready to leave town but not before one more stop, leaving a bundle of five letters with the bartender at the local bar.

Dear Dean,

You do not know me (well I'm the Stanford girl you met in the bar recently if you remember) but I have known about you for some time now, due to the enclosed letters I found hidden in my dorm room. The letters were about you! Written by someone who has some pretty overwhelming and complicated feelings for you.

The letters touched me in a way that I just had to find the author of the letters! Unbelievably enough I found you both!

I came here not knowing what to expect to find, and not really knowing what to do with the information I was in possession of, but meeting you and your brother yesterday I decided to hand the letters over to you. I trust you will handle the knowledge delicately and no matter what you choose to do with the knowledge. You and your brother clearly have a lot of unfinished business between you and hopefully you will clear them out one day. Whatever you decide please bare in mind that Sam's only crime in this is to have a loving heart, guilty only of too much love where there should be less, or love of a different kind. Go easy on him.

Love,

Lisa


	4. Chapter 4

Dean's hands were shaking. He felt sick to his stomach as he quickly stumbled for the men's rooms where he threw up violently until there was nothing left to throw up. Five minutes later, with a pale face and shaky legs, he threw a twenty-dollar bill on the bar, grabbed the letters and headed for the car.

All these years, hiding his true feelings for his brother. All these years watching carefully every move he made. Relentlessly watching every touch and act; so not to be misinterpreted for anything else than brotherly concern.

All that—for nothing…

He'd had those feelings, his entire grown up life. Constantly aware of Sam's hands and how they felt on him. How they felt on him while wrestling for fun, or patching up nasty wounds.

He had been content with those stolen moments of bliss over accidental touches. He had mastered the art of self-constraint and killing those inappropriate impulses.

Impulses of stroking back a wild strain of hair, or reaching out for the touch of bare skin in moments of closeness. Always on edge, always tense. It was a tiresome life. A lifetime of self-loathing had taken its toll, but no one could say he hadn't tried. Tried to do the right thing... Never to reveal himself; never to taint his lovely Sammy.

And apparently it had all been in vain.

He obviously had tainted Sam after all. The knowledge made him queasy. He had contaminated Sam with his sickness. He had caused his little brother to suffer the same torture and agony as he himself has suffered over the years. He hated himself for it and the guilt was overwhelming.

He had been so sure that Sam was in the clear. That Sam couldn't possibly feel the same way...

After all, how could he?

Sam was everything Dean wasn't; Pure, kind, smart, loving, sincere, and perfect.

Dean was his opposite in everything, so he had made it his life's mission to keep his perfect baby brother safe, no matter what the cost to Dean.

Back at the bunker, he sat down at his bed reading the letters over and over again while tears trickled down his cheeks. The knowledge that he had caused his brother so much pain hurt so badly he could barely breathe. The nausea in his stomach would have made him throw up again if it there had been any contents to do so. He felt a full-blown panic attack coming on and he used every trick in the book to try to calm himself down, only barely avoiding crawling into a corner, curling up in the fetal position.

Late that evening, Sam finally found Dean; in his room sitting on the edge of the bed with the letters beside him. H with his face tear-stained. Sam startled. A moment later when he laid eyes on the letters, he gasped loudly and froze, with a look of dismay on his face.

"Oh, no... No," he moaned miserably. "Those weren't for you. Never for you… Just some romantic teenage drabble that should have been burnt as soon as it was written," Sam rambled and hid his face behind his hands in despair. "Oh, I'm so sorry... So extremely sorry," he cried out with agony in his voice and desperation in his eyes.

He walked over to Dean intending to grab the letters on the bed. Before he could reach them Dean caught his wrist, and forced him to sit down beside him. Sam rubbed his wrist as if Dean had burnt it.

"They didn't mean anything, Dean! You have to believe me!" Sam pleaded. Dean wasn't looking at him, was looking down at the crumpled letter instead.

"You're sorry…?" Dean finally muttered. "You?" he added in a thick and hoarse voice from crying. "Can't you see? This is entirely my fault? It's my sick and dirty mind that has brought this decease upon us! I'm the oldest. I should have known better then to feel like that about my kid brother. I always thought that you where spared, that I hadn't tainted you, but apparently you weren't and I'm so sorry for that…" he said in a hoarse, barely audible voice, staring persistently at the floor in front of him.

He closed his eyes, miserable. "I can't seem to be anything but pain, sorrow and worrying to you…"he said, guilt weighing heavy in his voice, rubbing his hand over his face in despair.

"All I ever wanted was for you to be happy Sammy," Dean says, still avoiding making eye contact with his brother at all cost. Dean's shoulders were screaming for comfort, his body at war with his mind, but he would never act upon his feelings for his brother. He had promised himself that a long time ago.

They sat in silence a few minutes before Sam made a hesitant move towards placing a comforting arm around his brother's shoulders. The quick angry glare Dean gave him stopped him in the act and he nervously let his hands drop back down his lap again. Intuitively, he knew that Dean would not give in to the urge he was sure they both felt right now.

Not as long as Dean thought this was something he had infected Sam with. Not as long as he thought it was something tainted and wrong.

"To tell you the truth, Dean, I never knew how you felt about me," Sam confessed taking a deep breath before continuing, "I have struggled with my feelings for you, all on my own. Even tried sex with a dude to rule out that I'm gay—I'm not gay. It's only you, Dean; I'm in love with you! It may be wrong and it may not be what you wanted to hear, but it's how I have felt most of my life and nothing is going to change that," he said studying his brother's profile, hoping Dean would look at him.

But Dean didn't, so Sam continued.

"Now you tell me that you most likely feel the same way about me! How can that be wrong, Dean? How can any of this be your fault?" Sam asked and turned towards Dean, his body screaming for contact, screaming for comfort. Anything that would stop this excruciating pain he was feeling. Pain so physical that he couldn't breath, couldn't think a coherent thought.

"I don't know about you, but I refuse to carry guilt over feelings never acted upon," Sam said, firm and sure. No trace of doubt. "I have tortured myself all these years for feeling the way I did about you, thought I was all alone in this... Now that I know that you have felt the same I can't help but think—this is only wrong if we make it wrong. It's not like we're going to reproduce or something and we're not hurting anyone. You are certainly not hurting me and you can never taint me," Sam said with all the love and affection for his brother radiating off his face and in his soft voice.

"You have not infected me and this is not decease." Sam reached out for Dean's hand with the risk of being rejected, but once his fingers rested over Dean's hand he could almost feel Dean's resistance fade away with a soft, shuddering sigh.

Reassured, Sam slowly leaned in and warily placed a light kiss on his brother's nape, right under his ear. Dean gasped but didn't move. Sam, not being pushed away or punched at, took the liberty of agonizingly slow placing a series of feather light kisses along the stubbled line of Dean's jaw until he breathlessly came to a stop, ghosting millimeters in front of Dean's plush, moist lips. His brother was breathing in shallow, broken, expectant breaths.

Sam could feel Dean's breath sweeping like fire over his lips. He shivered in suspense, they both did. He hovered there, for what felt like minutes, until Dean finally swept in with the tip of his tongue along his lower lip and he pressed his burning lips against his brother's with a moan.

Sam took that as surrender, and not leaving Dean's lips, he placed his hands on Dean's shoulders and pushed him backwards onto the bed. He straddled his brother's thighs, both men shaking with desire and restrained breaths instinctively pressing their crouches together.

In spite of two layers of jeans fabric, both were fully aware of each other's arousal.

Slowly, accompanied by their moaning and panting, they started rubbing and grinding against each other in order to get some much needed friction. Sam ran his hand over Dean's torso and hesitantly slid his hands under Dean's shirt, up his stomach and rejoicing in the moan his the touch made slip out of his brother's mouth.

Sam's hands made Dean gasp and arch up to the touch. Encouraged, Sam stroke his fingers along the waistband of Dean's jeans, resulting in Dean holding his breath and allowing for Sam's fingers to dip beneath the waist.

"Oh god, Sam!" Dean moaned and panted harder. Dean's hands ran up and down Sam's back, clenching desperately to the fabric on Sam's back—still hesitant to let himself go fully; afraid to lose that last inch of restraint. Eventually, Dean decided to stroke Sam's chest under the shirt, and restraint was replaced with urgency. Urgency to touch that tight, toned skin that seemed to react to his every touch in the same way his own did.

Dean ran his hands down and around to stroke the hard bulge in Sam's jeans.

Sam groaned from the touch and pressed harder in to Dean's rubbing hand. "Oh fuck, this is actually happening," he panted. He broke loose from his brother's burning lips for a second and drew back for a moment, taking in the sight of Dean's kiss-swollen lush lips and wanting green eyes that was all his doing.

Fumbling, Sam unbuttoned Dean's jeans and with an awkward angle managed to reach his hand down Dean's boxers, wrapping his hand around Dean's hard and pulsing warm cock. He carefully fisted his brother, the sounds of pleasure escaping Dean's throat was maddening, So damn hot.

Dean unzipped Sam's jeans and shoved his hand down his boxers; both where now panting hard. Craning their necks until their foreheads were touching, looking down as they both tried to stay connected while trying hard to catch a glimpse of what they where doing to each other's cocks.

Dean only managed to wrap his hand around Sam's cock before it started pulsing in his hand, Sam bucked hard with a low groan. A moment later, cum spilled all over Dean's hand.

"Oh, fuck Sammy," he panted, gaze stuck on the sight of his cum-sticky fist around his brother's dick. "That's so ...so... Oh, fuck gonna come!" he screamed out. Seconds later, Dean orgasmed, pumping hard in Sam's hand, arching and twitching into his brother palm.

Sam fell upon Dean, not capable of holding himself up after the release into his brother's touch. Years of suspense and tension finally, and abruptly, coming to a short relief.

Both brothers, blissed out, panted for a minute as they caught their breath. They lay in silence—until reality caught up with them. Sam could feel Dean tense up beneath him. He lifted his head and looked into Dean's eyes where he could see the walls and resentment slowly building up again.

"Please, Dean, don't. Don't… do that," Sam murmured. "Don't make this into something nasty. It wasn't. It isn't—not unless we make it weird. It's our choice," he whispered and kissed Dean before he had any chance to air his thoughts on the matter.

Apparently, Dean listened; Dean finally kissed him back with determination and love before pulling away, kissing his way up to Sam's ear whispering, "It's only wrong if we make it wrong - It's our choice!"


End file.
